Irony of the Heart
by Autumn Xavier
Summary: Well, with release of HPDH, my story will officially undergo a full replotremake because too many issues were created to maintain consistency with the canon. There is a good chance that this will still be the basis but I have to change the characters...


AN: This story does contain spoilers for Order of the Phoenix so if you haven't read it yet, then this will definitely ruin it for you. Also, if you haven't read it yet....what the hell are you waiting for? The movie?! That's going to suck! Prisoner of Azkaban is going to suck! They're ruining everything! There is nothing between Ron and Hermione! There isn't going to be! J.K. Rowling has said that she's looked at fanfics and no one has gotten any of the pairings correct yet! This also is has a prequel, The One Task I Couldn't Do, that I've already written...so I guess that makes this the sequel? Well, at any rate, enjoy the fic and remember, if you read it, review it. It's greatly appreciated! Thanks! BTW, it was like 3:30 am when I finished writing this so I apologize for any small typos that appear. I ran spell check and fixed what it gave me but you never know, those weird ones that it likes to skip like "ad" instead of "and."

Chapter One: Plaguing Memories  
  
A gentle fog slowly rolled into Privet Drive, lying close to the dark pavement beneath it. The night was calm with only the tranquil sounds of crickets chirping in the distance and not a single light was lit within the dull houses that lined the streets save for one. It was not particularly bright, the light coming from a single candle that sent shadows dancing across the outside walls of Number Four. The boy inside had not taken note that the wick had burned down to the tiniest bit and that ivory colored wax was now slowly dripping off the desk. He did not really notice much of anything, his thoughts fleeting and his eyes never leaving the silver mirror he held within his hands.  
  
It was the last thing his godfather had given him, and even then Sirius himself had not actually given it to Harry. Instead, he had received it after he had died. Harry sighed and slowly closed his eyes, his fingers tracing the edge of the mirror. The pain was still too great for him to truly think about it, the memory was still too recent. He had almost lost his friends as well, foolishly dragging them along to the Ministry of Magic when in actuality, they had no reason to be there. He had been tricked into going and without even bothering to think twice about his actions, he fled from his school to save Sirius from trouble that he was not in. It was because of his hastiness that Harry had lost the only family member that had actually cared about him other than his own parents and now he was left with the Dursleys.  
  
With another sigh, Harry laid out on his bed, putting on hand behind his head while the other still gripped the mirror. His emerald eyes now stared blankly at the dull popcorn ceiling above his head. The Dursleys certainly never cared about him. They only tolerated him because of the threat Dumbledore held over their heads. If it wasn't for the fact that Aunt Petunia was his mother's sister and therefore, shared her blood, Harry would have left this prison they liked to consider a house years ago. His room was crowded with not only his own stuff from school but the older toys of Dudley. The bed he slept on was hard and uncomfortable, nothing at all like the ones at Hogwarts, his true home. He rarely left his room over the summer save for when he would go downstairs to eat and the long walk that usually followed. But his incarceration was to come to an end soon. Three weeks had passed since he had finished his 5th year at Hogwarts and tomorrow morning, Harry would be returning to the Weasley's house.  
  
Yet the knowledge of this still did little to alleviate Harry's frustration. Instead, his thoughts had now turned to Voldemort, the cause of all his problems. Had it not been for him, he would be with his father and mother, openly learning new spells in the comforts of his own home instead of learning them in secret in the dark hours of the night when Uncle Vernon slept. Had it not been Voldemort, Harry would not have to endure the torture of being confined to his room because he was "odd." Harry would not have to constantly look over his shoulder in fear for his life because he could no longer trust anyone. He would not have to worry about if he was ultimately going to be strong enough to defeat Voldemort or would he be the weaker wizard and die, allowing the Dark Lord to reign as he sees fit. Harry turned on his side, still clinging to the mirror. Only briefly does he allow the handle freedom to pull the wool sheets over his body and to remove his glasses, but it quickly retakes its place. He watched as the tiny flame fought to stay alit but eventually, it gave way to darkness and the light was gone. His body ached from not sleeping well, and Harry turned once again to face the wall. Slowly, he closed his eyes but sleep did not come easily for him. His mind was still haunted by dreams of Sirius's death, of Voldemort standing over him in defeat, surrounded by dementors and Death Eaters.

_The sun was shining brightly through the open windows of Hogwarts as Harry and Ron walked alongside Hermione. Their morning Quidditch practice had gone smoothly, without a single flaw and they knew that they would win in the upcoming match against Slytherin. The trio were all talking feverishly about their summers, their words nothing more than a jumble to those who were not included in the conversation. Slowly, they made their way up the winding staircases to the portrait that hid their common room from the rest of the house.  
  
The Fat Lady looked down at them, her face stern as if she had been bored with everything around them. "Password?" She asked in her usual monotone voice.  
  
Hermione smiled and nodded slightly. "Phoenix Feathers," she replied and stepped back slightly, allowing room for the portrait to swing open. She lead the way into the Gryffindor Common Room, still asking Ron and Harry questions at a rapid pace. "So tell me more about your summer Ron. I'm sor- ," she began, turning towards the large chairs that the three of them often found comfort in only to find they were already occupied.  
  
Hermione, as well as Ron and Harry, stopped in their tracks. Sitting by the fire, dressed in the traditional Hogwarts uniform, was Sirius. He looked refreshed, his dark hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and his face jovial. He turned and smiled at them, standing to greet them. "Hello Hermione, Ron," he said, walking towards them. "My dear Harry." He took Harry in his arms, as Harry also wrapped his arms around his godfather, his mouth unable to find words to express his joy. Tears rolled down from his jade eyes, staining his cheeks red. Never before had Harry been this happy, nor did he think he would ever be. He closed his eyes and buried them in Sirius' chest.  
  
"Harry," Sirius said, slowly moving back from him. "It's time..."  
  
Harry's joyous smile faded as his eyes trailed down to his godfather's hand and gave Sirius an inquisitive look as he pulled his wand from his cloak. Fear slowly took over Harry's face as Sirius lowered the tip towards Ron and Hermione, who were trying to support each other, still shocked and speechless at his reappearance. "Avada Kedavra!"  
  
Harry screamed as a green light surrounded and encompassed his two best friends and started towards them, yet his body would not allow him to move. Sirius laughed, both his voice and skin cracking, peeling away from his face. The once gentle eyes turned as dark and evil as possible, their color giving way to a blood red tint. Sirius lost his beauty and beneath the facade, Voldemort grinned. Harry tried to flee but his legs lost their strength and he fell to the floor. Frantically, he tried to escape yet the distance between him and his enemy only shortened as Voldemort drew closer to him. "It's time, Harry, to rid myself of you," he said in his chilling voice.  
  
Harry did not hear the words leave his mouth, but his lips moved and shortly thereafter, he could feel the heat against his skin, his eyes blinded by the radiance of the emerald light. Helpless, he did the only thing he could - scream._Harry awoke with a forceful jerk, his body covered in sweat flailed out of his bed. Hysterically, he swung his arms about his head, searching for his wand. It was not until two thick hands grasped his shoulders that Harry truly realized he had been dreaming. Above him, Uncle Vernon glared down at him with sheer fear, while his aunt and cousin were crowded in his doorway, their faces pale and looking as though Harry was going to kill them on the spot. He could not imagine what he looked like to them, screaming like a maniac...actually, that's probably exactly what they had thought he looked like. "I-I'm sorry," Harry began, trying to find the will to speak. He still felt as though he was dreaming, his body was weak and his head was throbbing.  
  
"I don't want any of your nonsense, boy. Just get up and get dressed. Those freaky little friends of yours will be here soon and I want you to be ready when they are," Uncle Vernon replied temperedly, quickly letting go of Harry's shoulders. He rubbed his hands together as if to rid them of some unseen dirt that would not come of. With another hateful glare at his nephew, he turned on his heel and stormed red-faced out of the room, his wife and son a step behind him. Harry sighed as he watched his uncle leave then slowly forced himself to his feet, though he still could not stand properly. His hand strayed to the scar that graced his forehead and gently rubbed it, hoping the pain would cease although it hadn't really stopped all summer.  
  
He dressed quickly, pulling a clean but wrinkled navy shirt over his messy dark hair and a pair of black pants up around his waist. He half-heartedly pulled a comb through his hair, although it seemed futile for it would only return to its previous state. As his hand reached for his glasses, it occurred to Harry that he had not seen his mirror all morning. He tore back the sheets of his bed, frantically looking under them for the gift Sirius had left him yet it was not to be found. Grasping his pillow, he ripped the case off began shaking it out, hoping it had somehow slipped inside. "No...not the mirror...goddamit! Where is it?!" He yelled as he pulled his mattress off of the bed, before flipping the bedspring itself up and looking. Soon followed was every drawer in the room, the bookshelves, the closet...Harry even tore through his luggage and Hedwig's cage but the mirror was gone. He let the weight of his body to drop to the floor, sweat lining his forehead. His fist clenched tightly as he banged it against the hard wooden floors beneath him, furious that somehow, someone had managed to get his mirror from him during the night.  
  
"Potter!" Came his uncle's voice, echoing up the stairs and down the hall. Harry sighed and pushed himself from the floor, giving his room one last look as he stepped over the books and clothes that were scattered all over the floor. He flung the door open, letting it slam into the cheap drywall plaster that formed the wall behind it. The handle broke through the white matter, leaving a rather large dent as the paint chipped off. Not giving the state of his room a second thought, Harry quickly walked downstairs and brushed past his uncle's furious, glaring eyes and crimson face. His emerald eyes looked at the only plate that was on the table. A few slices of cold bacon and plain, dry toast were resting on a pastel green plate, next to a glass containing orange juice. "Hurry and eat your food, boy. I want you to be ready for when those friends of yours arrive. I don't want them here....waiting for you," Vernon spat, his voice filled with disgust. "They do plan to arrive in a...normal...manner this time, I presume?"  
  
Harry shrugged and picked at the strips of meat sitting on his dish. His minds trailed back to exactly how he always got were he was going. The only time he had ever left the Dursley house in a "normal" manner was during his first year when his uncle had driven him. The second year he had left the house in a flying car, that he later crashed into that horrid tree. Guilt still hinted lingered at the loss of Mr. Weasley's car, of which Harry and Ron had last seen wandering through the Forbidden Forest. During his third year, he had ran away and left on the Knight's Bus. His thoughts lingered on this third year...the year he had met Sirius...the only family who cared for him. The man who had been his godfather, the best man at his parent's wedding, his father's best friend. That year had changed his life, had given him hope...but he had lost that.  
  
With a slight shake of his head, Harry pushed the memories of his godfather from his mind and continued to think of exactly how the Weasleys might be picking him up. Floo Powder? Oh how he prayed that it would not be...Harry was convinced there had been something he was allergic to inside of that powder. They certainly wouldn't be able to Apparate or fly because it was broad daylight and Harry was too young to Apparate. He took a bit from the toast and chewed at it meekly, before washing it down with a large gulp from his juice. He quickly rose from his chair so it scraped against the beige tile, an irritating screech as it did so. He gathered his plate and glass and walked to the sink, ignoring the frustration and resentment from his uncle as Vernon watched his every move. He growled and stepped towards Harry, puffing out his already bulging chest and fat stomach. "Answer me when I speak to you, boy!"  
  
"I don't know! All they said was that they'd be here at 10:00!" Harry yelled as he turned to face his uncle. Year ago, he would have only come up to his uncle's chest but puberty had hit and Harry had grown much over the years as well as the summer. Just prior to the start of summer, he stood around 5'6 but now he was close to 5'9 and was almost eye level with his uncle. Not to mention that Vernon feared him because of his ability to use magic, despite the fact that Harry was not allowed to use it outside of school grounds until he graduated. Harry's eyes looked over his uncle's face and he could see the uncertainty within his face. With a scoff, Harry shook his head and walked past him, giving a quick glance at his aunt whom had taken refuge in the living room, as he climbed the stairs to his room.  
  
He pushed open the door and looked at the mess before him. He wasn't going to bother cleaning it up, he'd save it for something to do when he got back other than sit around and fester within the confines of his room. He picked up his clothes and threw them in the chest, not caring much for their orientation. As he packed up his belongings for the second time that week, Harry made sure he kept an eye out for the mirror. But as the piles of clothes on the floor grew thin and books were placed back inside the trunk, the chances of it being in the room were growing smaller. He threw the last of his Hogwarts shirts into his trunk and let the lid slam shut before sliding the lock into place. Hedwig had not yet return to her cage, as she probably did not care for the travel methods of humans and would no doubt find her way to the Weasley's house. Harry gave the room one last look, hoping that he might see a hint as to where his mirror might have gone but with no sign, he turned his back and left the room, trunk in one hand and Hedwig's cage in the other.  
  
As he walked down the stairs, Harry let his trunk hit every step on the way down, much to his aunt's dismay, her eyes growing wider with every bang of wood against tile. Harry didn't care much for the condition of the house anyways; he would just have to repair the damage next summer when he returned for his three weeks of slavery. Finally, Harry reached the last step and with a forceful pull, the trunk quickly followed behind him, taking out a small chip from the stair. Petunia gasped, her face pale as though she was going to faint from the shock of seeing her house under such stress. Harry rolled his eyes at the over-exaggeration his aunt was making and pulled his trunk to the side of the fireplace. He looked at his watch and took a seat, resting his arms on his knees and crossing his fingers under his chin.  
  
Just as he had gotten comfortable, three loud cracks reverberated throughout the house. Uncle Vernon grasped his chest as though he might have a heart attack, while Aunt Petunia had covered her ears and buried her head into her lap, expecting an explosion or gunfire. Harry smiled and stood, unaffected by the sounds. His eyes looked to the tall man standing before him, then to the two younger boys standing behind him. One of the twins, Fred, stepped forward and gave Harry a friendly hug. "Hello Harry, long time," he said, pulling away. It was subtle but Harry felt his hand slip into his pocket. Harry leaned his head toward him in confusion but Fred shook his head, keeping his voice low. "Wacky Weasley Water Balloons - we just came out with them...they don't stop until they track down their target."  
  
"Well, I see Ron hasn-," Mr. Weasley began to say but was cut off by the loud whooshing sound that came from the fireplace. Dust and soot flew everywhere as a rather scraggly redhead stood up and brushed himself off, adding to the debris that was circling around the living room. Harry's aunt screamed in horror, having had this experience once before. The boy looked up and smiled when his eyes fell upon Harry, giving him a slight nod. "Hello Harry, ready to go?" He walked over towards Harry and gave him a quick hug. Harry returned the hug, though his had been tighter than his friend's had. He had been so concerned over what he had seen this morning that he was afraid that something had really happened to them. But his last experience has taught him well, and he had waited to make sure...he did not want to recklessly endanger anyone else and risk losing them as well.  
  
"Hello Ron, I'm so happy to see you. I was worried about you," Harry said, pulling back. Ron gave him an inquisitive look but Harry shook his head and motioned slightly to his uncle and aunt. Uncle Vernon's thick face turned an even darker shade of red that it had just been and with a huff, he stormed out of the room, with Petunia hurrying behind him.  
  
Mr. Weasley shook his head and turned to Harry and Ron. "Well, then shall we get going, boys? Fred, George, you'll Apparate back with Harry's trunk. Harry, Ron...you'll go back through this Portkey," he said as he pulled a knitting needle from his pocket. Harry frowned slightly...he would have preferred Floo Powder. The only time he had used a Portkey it had felt as though someone had been trying to pull out his stomach through his flesh. He looked to Fred and George who had each taken one of the brass handles on the side of his trunk and with two loud cracks, they had Disapparated from the living room. "Ron, will you hand me Harry's birdcage, I'll Apparate back with the cage and meet you at home. Okay boys, when I count to three, each of you place your finger on the needle. One...Two...Three!" 


End file.
